


All In Good Time

by Musyc



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Canon Compliant, Community: otterandferret, Dating, Developing Relationship, Disabled Character, Divorce, Draco Malfoy - character, F/M, Friendship/Love, HP: Epilogue Compliant, Hermione Granger - character, Male-Female Friendship, Post - Deathly Hallows, PostWar, Widowed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-11
Updated: 2012-04-11
Packaged: 2017-11-03 12:00:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musyc/pseuds/Musyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twenty-five years after the war, Hogwarts librarian Hermione Granger (formerly Weasley) strikes up a relationship with Draco Malfoy, widower of one year. Taking their time, moving slow, and letting things develop as they may, the couple finds happiness all around themselves and in each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All In Good Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wandofhawthorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wandofhawthorn/gifts).



"I have to say, if you had been the librarian when I'd been in school, I might have paid a bit more attention to my studies."

Hermione, repairing the binding of an alchemical text, looked up with a smile when the deep, drawling voice broke through her concentration. "Draco," she said with pleasure. She stood and circled her desk, both hands held out to him in greeting. "Visiting for Parents' Weekend?"

Draco tucked his walking stick beneath one arm and took her hands, then pulled her into a hug. Hermione went happily, resting her head against his shoulder to hear his heartbeat. When he spoke, his voice rumbled in his chest and she listened to it, eyes closed. "Scorpius wanted me here," he said, his hand warm between her shoulders even through the thick wool of her robes. "He had a project from Muggle Studies that he was desperate to show me."

"Oh, his trains and planes exhibit." Hermione laughed quietly and tipped her head back to look into Draco's eyes. "He's very proud of that. Runs without any magic at all. His hands smelled like petrol for days. I made him wear gloves whenever he came in here."

"I know." Draco's lips quirked in a smile. "He sent me several owls about that. I informed him that I approved of your decision and his mother would have made him wear a full protective suit, so he should count himself lucky."

Hermione released her grip on Draco and took a step back, her hands smoothing over the lapels of his open robes. "Your wife," she said in a quiet voice. "I'm sorry. She was a wonderful woman. A good friend. I quite liked her."

Draco nodded, his eyes darkening in a moment of sorrow. "Thank you. She liked you as well. Said you were often the only person she could talk to at dinners and parties. I swear, half the books in our library are ones that you recommended to her."

Hermione brushed a bit of his fringe back when he ducked his head. She pushed it behind his ear and cupped his cheek. "You miss her, don't you? How long has it been again? Ten months?"

Draco leaned into her hand and exhaled slowly. "Twelve months. And yes, I do. It feels as though I barely had time to say goodbye to her. Vellicate's Chorea doesn't give you very long."

Hermione grimaced. Hermione remembered hearing from Rose how much Scorpius had withdrawn, when he wasn't fighting to go home. Headmistress McGonagall had kept him quarantined at the school while his parents fought the viral illness. The nerve disease was known to be fierce and quick. Astoria had succumbed and died within a month. Draco had survived, with some lasting weakness.

He leaned on his walking stick now, and Hermione flushed with embarrassment. "Come on," she said, tucking her hand in the crook of his free arm. "Join me for some tea. Sit down and relax for a few minutes."

"No drinks around the books, Madam Librarian," Draco said, teasing. He arched a brow, clearly not fooled by her offer, but allowed her to lead him through the door behind her desk. She took him past the shelves and drawers of supplies the library needed - bookbinding thread and bone folders, marbled endpapers, ink pads and stamps, borrowers' records, scraps of leather, small jars of gold leaf and fine-pointed brushes - and lead him through a second door into a warm, cozy sitting room.

Draco settled by the fire, smiling as he leaned his walking stick against the arm of his chair. "You know, I always wondered where Pince disappeared to most days. It seemed like the only time you could find her was when she thought you were mistreating a book."

Hermione laughed and put a tray on the small table between the mismatched chairs. She poured tea, adding twice as much sugar to Draco's cup as to hers. "I try to be slightly less of a terrifying librarian than she was. I do still hear tales about horrible Miss Granger, though."

Draco smiled as she handed the cup to him. "Horrible Miss Granger. That does sound more librarian-like than Mrs Weasley."

Hermione shrugged out of her robes and slung them over the back of her chair. She straightened her skirt and blouse before sitting with her tea. "There are four other Mrs Weasleys running about. Molly, Fleur, Audrey, Angelina. Molly tried to convince me to keep the name after the divorce, but ... well. It never seemed to fit right even when Ron and I were married."

" _Ron_ never fit right with you." 

Hermione made a face at him over her tea cup and Draco held up one hand. "No, no. Ignoring my youthful idiocy, my general disdain for Weasleys and all that. He wasn't right for you, Hermione. He wanted to be in the spotlight. Wanted to be the famous one, who had people whispering his name when he passed them. He was always like that. I don't blame him, I suppose. He had five brothers with well-known names and his best friend was the Boy Who Lived. It's tough trying to be your own man in shadows like that. A bloke will do just about anything to make a name for himself in those circumstances. But that's not the life you wanted. He's _still_ finding himself. You always knew who you were."

Hermione settled back into her chair and stared into the fire. Draco's words hit close to home, the verbal confirmation of something she'd acknowledged for a long time. She remembered how Ron and Harry had fought when Harry's name came out of the Goblet of Fire, remembered how Ron had stood on the train platform when they saw Rose off to school and preened about how he was 'extremely famous'. Ron had never been satisfied with a small life. They'd separated amicably five years before, while she could still be happy for his proud successes instead of being frustrated by his depressions over so-called failures.

She shook her head and sipped at her tea. "It's a good thing you're more accepting of Weasleys these days," she said with a light smile. "Because judging from how Rose goes on and on about your son, I think she fancies him."

Draco laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling with his amusement. "I'm afraid she'll be doomed to disappointment in that case. Scorpius and Lorcan Scamander are dating. Have been for over a year."

Hermione's jaw dropped and she stared at Draco in honest shock. She'd known about Lorcan, but Scorpius was a surprise. More surprising was Draco's casual acceptance of his son's relationship with another young man, and a halfblood at that. "You're not trying to stop him for the sake of the bloodline?" she blurted, then slapped her hand over her mouth and mumbled a quick apology for the rudeness. Draco's antiquated, inherited notions of pureblood superiority had faded considerably since the end of the war, and she never liked to remind him of the boy he'd been. The man he'd become was far better.

Draco set his tea aside and rubbed his knee, thumb pressing hard into the muscles. "Actually, I was rather grateful that I wasn't going to have to lecture him on making certain I wasn't a grandfather any time soon. But no, I'm not. He's let me know that he likes girls as well as boys. I expect he'll marry to continue the line in a few years. Rose may want to catch him then." 

He looked up at her, his expression stilling. "And no, I don't care that the boy's a halfblood. Or that your daughter is, if they make a match some day. I think we've all learned that magical strength has nothing to do with how many generations of ancestors were wizards. Dumbledore, Potter, the Dark Lord - strongest wizards of the past century, and halfbloods all." He shook up his sleeve to expose the lower coils of the snake burned into his forearm, the black faded with years to a silver nearly as pale as his skin. "Some of us learned that lesson painfully."

Hermione laid her hand on his wrist, the ball of her thumb brushing across the scar. "But you did learn," she said in a soft voice. "And you turned into a good man, Draco. A wonderful man. You've raised your son well, too. He's so popular at Hogwarts and the rest of Slytherin house follows his lead. Some reluctantly, true enough, but the only fights I've heard about for three years have been over Quidditch rivalries and the dramas of teen romance. I've never heard a whisper of him or his housemates being cruel to another person for their blood or birth."

Draco twisted his arm to wrap his hand around hers. "Thank you. I worry sometimes. I've tried. Tried so hard to keep him from growing up the way I did. I don't want--" He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, then squeezed her hand gently. He met her eyes, lowering his voice. "I don't want him to miss out on _any_ chance for happiness."

Hermione felt her cheeks warming. Her heart fluttered oddly as Draco drew his hand back, his fingers rubbing across her palm. She stared into her tea, uncertain of what to say. The past two decades had produced a great many changes in wizarding society, a great many surprises. One that still left her uncertain and gave her heated, yearning dreams had been a Christmas party two years before her marriage when Draco kissed her beneath the mistletoe. They spent that night together but only that night. It had been too confusing, to much for either of them to handle. Then she and Ron got back together and Draco slid out of her life as quickly as she'd slid into his bed. He'd married Astoria a year later and she'd married Ron not long after.

They'd built a friendship after that night, but sometimes, late in the evening when she could imagine that she felt the press of Draco's mouth against hers, she still wondered. If they'd taken the chance then, what could have happened? From the wistful, soft sound of his words, she thought that he still wondered as well. She opened her mouth to ask, but a quiet chiming stopped her.

Draco drew a silver pocket watch from inside his robes and flipped open the top, engraved with a dragon and star. "Shit," he muttered under his breath. "I need to go. Scorpius said he and Goyle's daughter were going to present a Singing Snapdragon they bred in Herbology at six. I can't miss that."

He finished his tea and stood to straighten his robes. He held his walking stick in one hand and held the other out to Hermione. She took it to rise from the chair, then shook his hand. "It sings the Hogwarts school song and it's _terribly_ off-key," she said with a quick smile. "Try not to notice. Scorpius is regrettably tone-deaf and it learned from him."

Draco laughed. "I know. Believe me, I know. He got that from me." He squeezed her hand again and released her. 

At the door of the sitting room, he hesitated, then turned back. "Parents are invited to stay for dinner in the Great Hall. Perhaps I'll see you there? If you don't have anything planned afterward, I thought you might like to join me in Hogsmeade for a drink."

His cheeks and the bridge of his nose were a pale pink and he couldn't quite meet her eyes as he spoke. Hermione thought she heard a small tremble of shyness in his voice. Her skin warmed as she watched him fidget with the handle of his walking stick. "I'd like that," she said, hiding a grin when she heard him exhale with relief.

He looked at her and gave a deep smile. "Good. I'll, er. I'll meet you in the courtyard after dinner, then? At seven. Wear a warm cloak. I'd like to walk with you."

Hermione nodded without speaking. She couldn't seem to find any words. Draco didn't seem to need them. He lifted his hand in a farewell and left the sitting room. She heard him whistling tunelessly as he walked away and she grinned in response. It had been a long time since she'd had a date.

* * *

Hermione retied the ribbons of her cloak for the sixth time, considered going back to her chambers to change clothes for the third time, checked the narrow gold hands of her wristwatch for the dozenth time. Maybe she should have twisted her hair back into a chignon, or plaited it in a braid, or caught the sides back with combs. Different shoes, perhaps, or a different perfume. The gold teardrop earrings instead of the silver ones in the shapes of knotted ropes.

The huge clock in the tower pealed out the first chime of the seven o'clock bell. Hermione jumped and smoothed her hands along her hips beneath her cloak, trying to ignore how her fingers trembled. She'd watched Draco from the staff table at dinner, smiled to see him at the Slytherin table where he'd sat so long ago. She'd barely eaten, absorbed in watching his hands flutter over the table as he regaled the students with stories of Quidditch, his long fingers closing around open air as he caught an imaginary Snitch.

She'd seen him talking with his son, their matched blond heads bent together. Scorpius had a great deal of his mother in his looks, but next to Draco, they were practically twins. Draco kept his hair longer, much like his father had, and his face held small lines of age, but other than the slight limp from his illness, he was as fit as he'd been in their youth before the war. 

Hermione wiped her hands on the inside of her cloak as the clock bells finished pealing. In the silence that followed, she heard the tap of Draco's walking stick on the courtyard flagstones. She turned to smile at him and her smile widened even further when he held out a small white flower. "From the greenhouse," he said, presenting her the bloom with a small bow. "No idea what it is, but it looked pretty."

"It's a poppy," she said as she tucked the stem under her wristwatch to wear it like a corsage. "And you picked a good color. White poppies mean peace."

Draco laughed, bending his arm to let her tuck her hand into the crook of his elbow. "I'm not sure how much peace there will be. Longbottom - excuse me, _Professor_ Longbottom gave me a rather nasty look when he caught me leaving with it."

"Oh, Draco," she said with a shake of her head as they left the school grounds and headed along the road to Hogsmeade. "Stole it, did you?"

"Didn't have time to ask permission. I didn't want to be late to meet you." He patted her hand on his arm, his stride becoming uneven for a moment until he set his walking stick down again. "I'd have been earlier if Scorpius hadn't interrogated me as to my plans. Apparently he caught you watching me all through dinner."

Hermione blushed and cleared her throat. "Well. Yes. I might have been." She looked up to see Draco's mouth curled in a smile. Rolling her eyes with amusement, she nudged her hip against his side. "Stop looking so smug, Mister Malfoy. Just because a woman admits she couldn't take her eyes off you is no reason to go smirking like that."

"Can't help myself." He glanced sideways at her and lifted his brows. "Been a while since I heard a woman admit to that. I'm not sure how else I should react." 

He gave a nervous cough. "Not sure how I should react to you, honestly. This, ah. That is." He exhaled sharply and shrugged one shoulder. "I did mean this to be a date, I hope you understand. If you're just having a drink with a friend and I'm on a date, then we should probably pick one. I'd hate to waste some good flirting."

"Oh, automatically assuming it would be good flirting?" Draco made a face and Hermione grinned. She drew him to a halt on a small footbridge over a narrow stream. "Draco, I'm on a date," she said, one hand on his arm and the other on his shoulder. "Let's get that out of the way right now. You asked me for a drink, I assumed it was a date. So we're both on the same page there. But ... but I will admit that I'm a bit nervous about it. About you."

He cocked his head and looked at her. "Nervous about me. Aren't you the one who just a few hours ago said I was a wonderful man? How did we get from that to nervous? If it's the leg, I assure you that you can't even tell when I'm not walking. I'm more than capable of a simple dinner date."

"Not that." Hermione leaned against the railing of the bridge and took Draco's left hand. She rubbed her thumb over the narrow indentation on his ring finger, evidence of years of wearing a wedding band. "Your wife ... you've been a widower for barely a year. Are you even _ready_ to date? Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't mind at all, because I've never really forgotten about what happened between us that one night, but I don't want to start anything if you aren't really ready and--"

Draco cupped her cheek and pressed his thumb to her lips, hushing her. "Don't babble," he said with a soft laugh. "Hermione, yes. I do miss my wife. I miss her terribly. But I promised her, the day she died, that I wouldn't mourn her forever." His fingers slid along her jaw and back to cradle her head. Hermione sank her teeth into her lip to hold back a soft sound. She'd forgotten how gently he could touch.

Draco leaned his walking stick against the bridge. He traced her bottom lip and dipped his head to bring his mouth close to her ear. "I promised her that," he said in a low voice. "And that wasn't all. When it was obvious that she'd lost her battle but I'd survive, that I would live without her, she made me promise one more thing. She made me promise that I wouldn't live _alone_. That I'd find another woman to love." 

He lifted his head and met her eyes. Hermione found herself shaking and she gripped the lapels of his robes, crushing the wool in her fists. "She always wanted you to be happy," she whispered. "She told me once that you'd seen so much sadness and pain. It broke her heart to know she couldn't take those memories away for you. She wanted to help you make all new ones."

Draco's eyes darkened, his lashes lowering. "I know. She was a wonderful woman. Strong, intelligent, beautiful. Exactly the sort of woman I've always wanted." He ran his fingers through her hair, drawing one curl from the hood of her cloak to twine it around his thumb. "You two were very much alike, you know. She thought you were amazing. And she--" His voice tightened and he swallowed hard, his throat moving above the collar of his shirt. His next words came out fast, as if he had to speak them before they choked him. "In her last days, she told me I should.... That I should, ah. Ask. Look for. You."

Hermione tipped her head back to look him full in the face, her eyes widening. Draco hadn't explained precisely, but she thought she had the gist of it. "Your dying wife told you to ask me out?"

Draco's pale skin flushed bright pink instantly. He looked away from her, staring down into the creek beneath them, at the orange and red leaves that drifted along its surface. "She knew about our history, short as it was. She approved. She thought you'd be good for me. She-she resembled you, you know. Dark hair, dark eyes, _so_ smart. She used to tease me that I'd married her because you were so much alike. That I missed my chance with you the first time 'round and married her because it was the closest I could get. I told her not to be an idiot, but there was some little spark of truth in it. I loved her, I loved her desperately, but--"

"Draco, stop." Hermione took a step back, shaking her head. "Stop. You're not making any sense." It made no sense at all. Astoria had always been friendly with her. They'd talked often, exchanged letters and cards at holidays, shopped together several times, but she'd never had a hint of this. She'd never known that Astoria felt like this. "Was she _jealous_ of me?"

Draco shuddered, his hands clamping on the bridge railing. "No!" He shook his head until his fringe swung wildly in front of his eyes. "No, she wasn't. She never was. She _adored_ you." 

He turned to face her. Hermione's breath caught at the glimmer in his grey eyes. "I'm ... I'm fucking this up, I'm sorry," he said. "I just don't know what to say, how to say it right." He shoved both hands through his hair and took a sharp breath, letting it out fast and shaky. "Look. Astoria loved you. She thought you were wonderful. Great witch, great woman all around. And she wanted me to be happy. She wanted me to find happiness after she was gone, and she knew I liked you. But more importantly, she knew that _she_ liked you and she could be happy with you in my life. So yes, she told me that I should see about you when my mourning ended. When I was ready to date again, if you were free, I should-- I should."

His hands fell limp at his sides and he dropped his head. "I'm doing this wrong," he mumbled. "I'm not getting this right at all."

He looked lost and vulnerable, standing there with his head bowed. Even in the middle of all her confusion, Hermione ached for him. She laid her hand on his chest, over his heart. "Draco, no. You're not. You're trying to fulfill a wish for your wife, not asking a woman out because you want to. Because you want her. It's not going to work if you operate on shoulds and promises. You're going to stay confused and uncertain, and that's no way to start a relationship. That's no way to even go on one date."

"I don't know what to do," he muttered. 

Hermione stepped in close and slipped her arms around his waist. She laid her head on his shoulder and listened to his heartbeat. "No one ever knows what to do. We all figure it out as we go. What you need is a good friend to help you through it."

Draco wrapped his arms around her shoulders and sighed. Hermione held on to him, waiting for the trembling tension to ease out of his body. His heartbeat slowed and he eventually relaxed. Hermione looked up to see his face and tried a smile for him. "Feeling better?"

"Not really." He bent his head and kissed her temple. "I think I ruined our date."

"A bit." Hermione squeezed his waist gently and laid her head against his shoulder again. "But that's all right. We can try again."

She felt a quaver of surprise run through him. His voice rumbled against her ear. "That's ... that's not what I expected to hear. You actually want to?"

Hermione laughed into his robes. "Draco, I agreed to go on a date with you in the first place, didn't I? I _want_ to go on a date with you. I just want it to be a date we're both happy to be having, not one that you're nervous and fretting over." She hugged him one more time and stepped back. "How about this? We walk back to the castle. You spend the rest of the evening with your son. Next weekend, you come back and we go to lunch. Something small, something simple. Something that isn't a 'capital letter' date."

"And if that goes well, then?"

"No." She shook her head, but she smiled at him. "Don't think so far in advance. That'll just lead to worry and fretting, so we aren't going to plan that far. We're going to have lunch next weekend. That's as far as I want you to think."

Draco watched her for a moment, not speaking, then the corners of his mouth curled in a slow smile. "All right. I can do that." He took up his walking stick and crooked his arm for her. "Miss Granger, may I walk you back to school?"

She grinned and tucked her arm in his. "Mister Malfoy, that would be delightful."

* * *

* * *

Hermione stood at the doors of the library, urging the last stragglers out at closing time. One young Hufflepuff with yellow ribbons at the ends of her braids finally hurried out, and Hermione exhaled in slow relief. She loved her work, loved the students, but some days, she just wanted to leave as quickly as possible. She had more and more sympathy for Madam Pince every day.

She closed half of the double doors and crouched to hook the latch into place. A pair of highly polished shoes came into her view. "Library's closed," she said in a firm voice. "You'll have to come back in the morning."

"I don't need a book. I wanted to talk to you, Miss Granger."

Hermione looked up into grey eyes, an exact match for eyes that had become very familiar and warm to her over the past three months. "Oh, Scorpius!" She scrambled to her feet, brushing dust off her robes. "Is this something that can wait until tomorrow? I had planned--"

"I'd really rather not," he said. He swallowed and fidgeted with the signet ring on his right hand. "It's, er. It's about Dad."

Hermione touched her throat unconsciously, feeling the thin chain of a necklace beneath the collar of her blouse. The small pendant held a single ruby set in a wreath of gold vines. She shouldn't have accepted a gift of jewelry so soon, but Draco had looked so hopeful when he presented the box to her the week before at their regular lunch. "Your father? Is-is he all right? He's not...." She drifted off, unable to finish the sentence with any of the horrible ideas that had suddenly leapt into her mind. Ill or hurt or hexed or any number of things. 

"He's fine." Scorpius' eyes widened and he touched her arm tentatively, halting the whirl of her thoughts. "Oh, sorry, Miss Granger, I didn't mean to frighten you. He's fine, I swear. But I did really want to talk to you about him. Could we, please?"

Hermione straightened the cuffs of her blouse and adjusted the fall of her robes to give her a few moments to think. Scorpius looked wary and nervous, but there was determination in his eyes. She couldn't help but smile. He looked so much like his father. "All right," she said. She patted his arm and gestured him inside. "I'll put some tea on."

She locked up and led him to the sitting room, where she pointed him to a chair as she brewed tea. Expecting that he had the same sweet tooth as Draco, she put extra sugar in the bowl before setting the tray between them. Curling up into her chair, she wrapped both hands around her cup and looked at Scorpius. "All right. Now, is this about your father or is this about _me_ and your father?"

Scorpius had the decency to flush at her question, but he nodded without looking away from her. "About you and Dad."

"Do I get to ask you about your relationship with Lorcan?" Scorpius lifted a brow as Hermione rubbed her temple. "That was rude," she said with a sigh. "Ignore it."

"We broke up." Scorpius leaned back in his chair and shrugged one shoulder, the gesture almost an exact copy of one of Draco's habits. "He wanted more time for Quidditch. I went out with Derek Finnigan for a couple of weeks, but I'm seeing Matt Bulstrode now."

Hermione blinked, a little startled by the easy way he mentioned his relationships. Or perhaps, she admitted to herself, by the relationships in the plural, in what seemed like a short time. It wasn't familiar to her. A few dates with Viktor, a rubbish date with Cormac, and then Ron. She'd never been one for a lot of casual dating. It was almost foreign. "I see," she said, grasping for something to keep the conversation steady. "He's in Slytherin with you, right?"

Scorpius nodded, then lifted his brows as he leaned forward. Hermione recognized Draco's 'intense attention' posture and she took a long drink of her tea to brace herself. "But we're not here to talk about you. You wanted to talk about me and your father. Yes, well--"

"Dad's falling for you."

Hermione choked on her tea and set the cup down quickly to pound herself on the chest. Sputtering, she stared at the young man across from her. "That's, um. That's. That?" She cleared her throat and tried again. "That's very unsubtle for a Slytherin."

One corner of his mouth twitched in amusement as he put his empty cup aside. "Maybe. But it's the truth." He put his elbows on his knees, his hands folded together. "Dad's falling for you. _Hard_. When I was home over Christmas holidays, I couldn't believe the change in him. I haven't seen him smile like that since before Mum died. He can't stop smiling. He's really happy. Unbelievably happy. And I--"

He ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "And I just want to see him stay happy, y'know? I just ... wanted to see if you were on the same level as him. Because if you aren't, you need to break it off before he gets too deep. Before he gets hurt."

Hermione started to tell Scorpius that he shouldn't be worrying about the problems of adults, that he was just a boy getting involved in things he shouldn't, then he looked up at her. In his eyes she saw a dark tension she remembered seeing in Draco's face at the same age. Now she understood better than she had then. It was a fierce loyalty and love for his family that had pushed Draco into his actions all those years ago; it was the same loyalty that was driving Scorpius now.

She sat forward in her chair and put her hand on his arm. "Scorpius. I'm not going to hurt your father." He flinched and glanced at her from under his lashes, worry obvious in the tightness of the muscles around his eyes. "I promise," she said quietly. "I'm not going to hurt him. Your father's very important to me."

"Then why haven't you done anything except go to lunch every Saturday?" Scorpius lifted his head to stare at her, his brows furrowed. "That's all you do. It's been three months and that's it. Little old ladies with cats and knitting baskets have lunch every weekend. Not people dating. Not serious, at least."

Hermione hid a smile. Scorpius' worry about his father warmed her heart, but amused her at the same time. "We're taking our time. Part of the reason for that is my duties here at Hogwarts. I might not be a teacher or a head of house, but I still have responsibilities to the students and the school. Believe me, I would be very happy to spend more time with him. Unfortunately, right now I can't." She patted his arm and sat back, smiling broadly. "But I promise. What's happening between us? It's serious and that's not going to change any time soon."

"So ... you're definitely thinking long-term, then?" His voice cracked halfway through, though Hermione couldn't tell if it was emotion or hormones. She ignored it out of politeness, filling her tea again to give Scorpius time to get a bit of control over himself. He cleared his throat and held his cup out to her. "You're looking ahead? More than a couple of weeks?"

"I am. _We_ are." She handed the full cup back to him. "We weren't looking that far ahead at the beginning. Things were too new." She wasn't going to explain to him the long conversations she'd had with Draco about their history, their past night together, his widowing and her divorce, their expectations and fears and worries and hopes. If Draco wanted Scorpius to know any of that, the two men could talk. She kept all of it to herself and told Scorpius what she could. 

What he needed to hear. 

"We've been dating for three months now, and we're doing very well together. I expect that we'll continue to do very well. It might seem a bit slow, but that's what we need." 

He chewed on his thumbnail, watching her in silence, then his shoulders slowly relaxed. He smiled at her and gave a short nod. "All right. That'll do for now."

* * *

Hermione swept the last crumbs of her cinnamon pastry off her plate with the side of her index finger. She sucked it clean, smiling to herself at the way Draco's eyes darkened as he watched the movements of her mouth. She'd discovered early on that flirtatious words did little for him, but actions spoke _very_ loudly.

"I had a chat with Scorpius this week," she said after a final lick of her finger.

Draco blinked, then leaned back in his chair. "Oh? Return a book late? Eat profiteroles and smudge up the pages? Filthy limericks written in the margin?"

She chuckled. "No. He's remarkably conscientious about his library books, unlike my own son. Hugo isn't even permitted in the library without pre-emptive charms on his hands." She drew the tip of her finger around the rim of her plate before pushing it away and folding her hands on the table. "He wanted to interrogate me about the status of our relationship."

His cup paused halfway to his mouth. Draco stared at her for several seconds, his eyes widening, then narrowing, then closing entirely. He set the cup down and sighed, slumping in his chair to pinch the bridge of his nose. "My son wanted to know if your intentions were honorable, I'm guessing."

"Actually, he wanted to know if my intentions were temporary." Hermione gave a rueful smile as Draco looked at her through his fingers. She went over the conversation she'd had with Scorpius, leaving out the beginning. The part about Draco falling for her wasn't something she wanted to explore in a public restaurant, even one as slow and empty on a Saturday as this one. She watched how Draco's expression shifted as he listened, his eyes giving away more of his thoughts than she suspected he realized.

"Scorpius is afraid you'll hurt me," he said at length, drawing shapeless designs on the tablecloth with the end of his fork. "That's interesting. I imagine a lot of your friends have the same concerns, if the other way around."

Hermione bit her lip and looked down. She tucked a bit of hair behind her ear and thought fast, but not fast enough. Draco set his fork down with a solid click. "Your friends have the same concerns, don't they?" he asked, his deep voice tight with suspicion.

She cleared her throat and looked up. Draco's face had gone blank and still. His shoulders were taut and she could see the muscles of his jaw working as he ground his teeth together. With an apologetic sigh, she reached across the table to touch his hand. "I haven't told them yet."

Draco turned his hand over to grasp hers for a moment, then he drew back. He folded his arms. His fingers circled along the underside of his left sleeve. Hermione wondered if he even knew he was doing it, if he was aware that he was tracing the shape of the Dark Mark's scar. "Because of what I was?" he asked in a soft voice, his eyes never leaving hers.

"No," she said immediately. She left her hand on the table, palm up and open for him to see that she wouldn't withdraw from him. "Because of what we might become. We ... what happened during our school years, during the war? I forgave your part in it all years ago. That's how I spent that one night with you, that's how we made friends. The past is gone. It's done with. I'm focusing now on the future. What _might_ happen between us is far more important that what did."

Draco didn't speak, but his fingers stopped moving on his sleeve. His shoulders eased just a touch and the twitching muscle in his jaw stilled. Hermione took a slow, shaking breath. "I told Scorpius the truth, Draco. You're important to me. I haven't told my friends about us yet because I didn't want them to fuss and argue. Not before we'd even done more than have a few lunches together."

"Afraid they might talk you out of it?" His voice was rough, as if he hadn't spoken in months instead of moments.

"No one can talk me out of anything I want to do," she said, her brows drawing together. "And no one can force me to do anything I _don't_ want to do." She touched her collar and drew it down an inch, exposing the slim, white scar on her throat. The movement could have been unconscious, but she did it deliberately. When Draco's eyes went to the scar and he pressed his lips together, his eyes darkening with memory, she knew he understood. She'd withstood Bellatrix' attempts at force; she could easily withstand her friends.

Hermione released her collar and stretched her hand across the table again. "I want to continue seeing you, Draco," she said softly. Her earlier decision to keep the rest of her conversation with Scorpius quiet until they were alone was discarded. She wasn't going to leave that table until she and Draco had settled this. "I know how you feel about me."

His eyes flew open and he shivered in his chair. He smacked his hand onto hers, gripping her fingers hard. Hermione didn't flinch, didn't take her eyes from his. "Scorpius told me. But he didn't have to. I already knew. I've known for a few weeks and I'm thrilled about it. Because you're not the only one who can't stop smiling. You're not the only one that's unbelievably happy."

She laid her free hand over their joined fingers, enclosing him in the warmth of her grip. "And you're not the only one who's falling hard."

Draco clung to her hand and watched her face. Hermione had never seen him look so vulnerable. Every emotion in him was reflected in the silver mirror of his eyes. Hermione held her breath until she saw them warm, until she saw a smile curling his mouth. He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. "Good to hear."

* * *

* * *

As the morning post owls dropped letters and packages to the students in the Great Hall, a large eagle owl separated from the pack and swooped over the staff table. Its curled talons released a stiff white envelope into Hermione's hands. As the owl left the Great Hall, she examined the envelope. It was of good quality cloth paper, small green and blue threads scattered through the cream. The front held her initials in a bold, angular script. She ran her fingers over the letters with a small smile, recognizing Draco's handwriting.

She opened the envelope and unfolded the rectangle of parchment inside.

_Hermione,_

_It would be a great pleasure if you would do me the honor of accompanying me Saturday evening to Maison Arber in London for dinner. I regret that my leg precludes dancing, but after dinner, perhaps you might consent to join me for a walk through Regent's Park._

_Yours,_  
 _DLM_

She lifted her brows at the formal tone of the invitation, then noticed a small arrow in the bottom right corner. Flipping the parchment over, she laughed aloud. Flitwick, on a tall chair beside her, raised his toast point in question, but Hermione waved him off.

The back of the parchment was covered in a hundred repetitions of one word.

_Please?_

At the very bottom, he'd squeezed in a final couple of sentences.

_I wasn't certain whether to go with a reserved request or outright begging, so I thought I'd cover all my hoops with both. I think we're ready for a proper date now, don't you? Let me know._

_Very much yours,_  
 _Draco_

* * *

Hermione pressed close to Draco's side, her arm around his waist. As she shifted, her skirt rode up, letting the cold of the stone bench seep into her thigh. She shivered and Draco's arm tightened around her shoulders. "Sorry," he murmured, ducking his head to kiss her hair. "Should have remembered that we couldn't exactly wear cloaks here without looking odd."

Hermione laughed under her breath and patted his knee. "I don't mind. I think it was terribly sweet of you to take me to a Muggle park, even if it is a bit chilly. Besides, you probably didn't know this, but this has always been my favorite park in London. There are bigger ones and prettier ones and all of that, but I always loved this one best. My parents used to bring me here once a week. We'd have a picnic right there." She pointed to a tall tree at the bottom of a rise. "Right under that tree."

She felt Draco's hand press against her shoulder, rubbing her arm gently, as he gave a quiet chuckle. "That explains why you picked this bench, then. I thought maybe your feet were hurting. Those shoes are terribly high."

Hermione kicked one foot up and twisted her ankle to look at her shoe in the moonlight. The heels were a good two inches taller than anything else she owned. New shoes in a new height hadn't been the best idea for a night out and a long walk, but she hadn't been able to resist. The pair's multiple straps matched the decorative neckline of her dress, and Draco's wide-eyed look of appreciation when she met him in Hogsmeade had been worth it. "A little bit," she admitted. "But mostly because of good memories."

Draco made a soft noise of acknowledgment. Hermione glanced up to see him looking at the tree, his expression still and distant. She'd told him about her parents, about what she'd done during the war to protect them. He'd cradled her head to his shoulder and nodded in understanding. _We both made choices to save our loved ones_ , he'd said. _Choices we should never have been forced to make. Not that different, are we?_

The breeze picked up, blowing cold air against her legs and making her skin prickle even through her thick tights. She must have shivered again, because Draco shifted, angling to let her press against more of his side. "I'm ready," she said. He glanced at her, one brow lifted, and she grinned ruefully. "It's gorgeous out here, and thank you for bringing me, but I'm freezing. Warming charms aren't going to do the trick. Could we go somewhere I can get a hot drink?"

He chuckled and stood, his hand out to help her up and his walking stick balanced against his leg. "Of course," he said with a slight bow. "Anything you'd like." 

He kept her hand between his, rubbing gently to warm her fingers. Hermione tipped her head and watched his face. He had a strange look in his eyes as he concentrated on her hand, an almost wary expression, and she brushed his fringe back to catch his attention. "What is it?"

He met her eyes and exhaled slowly. "I, ah. I'll take you to a cafe for that drink, if you'd like, but I was wondering.... That is--" His brows knotted and he shrugged one shoulder, glancing away. "I picked Regent's Park for more than one reason. It's lovely, but it's also close to my house."

Hermione gave an indelicate snort, shaking her head. "Unless you're talking Apparition, this is not _anywhere_ close to Wiltshire."

Draco's cheeks turned pink and he looked at her from under his lashes. "Not the Manor. My family has a house here. In London. Back when it was the done thing to spend 'the Season' in the city, one of my ancestors bought a townhouse." His mouth twitched in half a smile. "My family's always insisted on being part of the elite."

Hermione considered his offer, thinking that it might be interesting. Over the course of her friendship with Astoria, she'd been to Malfoy Manor a few times, but never felt comfortable there. She couldn't walk past the drawing room or the door that led into the cellars without her skin crawling and her body aching. The torture she'd undergone there had never fully left her, with remnants of pain during storms or dreams that woke her crying, drenched in sweat. To spend some time with Draco in a different house, without those old memories, might be a pleasant evening.

They could sit by a fire with cups of tea, curl up together in a chair and listen to the wireless. Something romantic could start to play. Draco could run his fingers through her hair and caress her skin. She could slowly unbutton his shirt and push the fabric back to explore the sweep of his collar bones and the rapid beat of his heart and--

Hermione shook her head, reluctant but quick. "No," she said quietly. "I don't think it's a good idea."

Draco lowered his eyes, but not before she could see the disappointed flash in them. She pressed close to him and twined her arms around his neck. "Not because I don't want to, Draco," she murmured. "I would love to. But I also know what is likely to happen if you and I are alone in a private house for an evening. That's not a step I want to take tonight."

He wrapped his arms around her waist, his fingers kneading into the muscles at the small of her back. "Am I allowed to confess to being a little frustrated? I was rather hoping for some of that 'likely to happen'."

Hermione kissed his jaw, her tall heels putting her within an inch of his height. "I thought you might. I appreciate that you're honest about it, too. I _am_ interested. You're very attractive and I already know you're skilled."

Draco's pale skin flushed and his eyes darkened. Hermione knew he was remembering the same thing she was, the one night they'd spent together years before. Unlike lovers she'd had previously, Draco had taken his time, bringing her off twice with hands and tongue before sliding into her. Even then, he'd held back, waiting until she clawed at his shoulders and demanded more. Waited until she'd wrapped her legs around his hips, pulled him close, and _begged_.

Hermione drew one nail down his throat and down the placket of his shirt. She pushed two fingers between the buttons and touched his bare chest, stifling a gasp at the heat of his skin. Draco made a soft noise and wrapped his hand around her wrist. Hermione's heart pounded against her ribs. They stood with their eyes locked and lips parted, both breathing harder. Hermione knew that one move closer would be all they'd need to Disapparate on the spot, to run straight to his townhouse and into his bedroom.

She forced herself to take a step back. "Not tonight," she said again, reminding herself as much as him. "Not tonight."

Draco let out a long, slow breath, his fringe stirring as he exhaled. "Right," he said with a growl darkening his voice. "Not tonight." He shook his head forcefully and straightened his shoulders. 

He held his hand out to her. Instead of tucking her arm around his, Hermione took his hand and laced their fingers together. She squeezed gently and smiled up at him. "Not tonight. But soon."

* * *

* * *

Hermione opened the door of her chambers and smiled at her daughter. "Rose, sweetheart," she said, stepping into the corridor to give Rose a hug. "You're right on time. Come on in."

Technically, students were not supposed to be in the staff wing, but as Hermione wasn't a teacher, Headmistress McGonagall looked the other way for their Wednesday dinners. Every week, Rose and Hugo joined Hermione for a meal, and Hermione looked forward to it immensely. She loved the chance to catch up with her children.

Rose patted Hermione's shoulder. "'lo, Mum," she said as she strode into the sitting room. "Hugo's going to miss dinner, buried in his books, but he said he'd drop by before curfew."

Hermione laughed quietly and shook her head as she closed the door. She'd missed more than one dinner herself at that age due to studying and revision. "Then it's just us girls," she said with a bright smile, leading the way to the small table beneath an oriel window.

"Yep." Rose huffed at Hermione's stern look. "I mean, yes. Just us girls. Which, actually, is sorta good for me."

Hermione cocked her head in confusion as she poured juice for them both. "Something amiss? School or personal?"

"Personal. But not for me." Rose stared at her salad, chewing on the corner of her lip, then lifted her head and gave Hermione a long look. "It's about you and Mal--"

"Oh good god." Hermione put her fork down with a snap and closed her eyes to count to five. "First Scorpius, now you. You are aware that I'm a grown woman, your _mother_ , and I am capable of making a decision."

"Mu-um." Rose drew the word out, rolling her eyes. "It's not about that. If you think he's good enough for you, then he's good enough for you. No matter what Dad says."

Hermione concentrated on her juice to keep from saying something about Ron's opinion. She knew very well what it was. The four owls he'd sent her over the past week, each with more creative comments on Draco's history and attitude, had made his opinion perfectly clear. At least he'd had the intelligence not to make any remarks about _her_ in the process.

Rose flicked a dismissive gesture and poked through the salad to pick out the bits of shredded carrot. Hermione smiled at the old habit. Her daughter had always saved the carrots, her favorite vegetable, to eat last. "So you've decided not to scold me over my relationship, then?"

"Mum, you've always been willing to stand back and let me handle my dating life on my own. Even when it's obvious that it's hard for you, you've done it. Always appreciated that. Seems only fair I should return the favor." She grinned at Hermione and pointed her fork. "Besides, he's _fit_. Those shoulders! Not a girl I know who blames you at all for going out with him."

Hermione felt a blush spreading across her cheeks. She sipped at her juice to avoid her daughter's eyes.

"How is he in bed?"

Hermione choked on her juice. She sputtered and coughed, pounding herself on the chest until she could breathe. "Rose Granger-Weasley! That is none of your business!"

Rose's face twisted in an impish smile. "C'mon, Mum. Just us girls, remember? At least tell me that he's good. From what Lorcan's said about Scorpius, I gotta assume the Malfoy men have some _skills_. Here's hoping, right?"

"Rose!" Hermione's cheeks were hot as flames and she pressed her hands to them in a futile attempt to hide the bright red flush. "Rose, that's not a topic for discussion. You're hardly old enough to--"

"I'm seventeen. I'm a legal adult, and I haven't been a virgin for three years. Sex isn't something to be ashamed of, you told me that. Or were you lying?"

Hermione lowered her hands and stared at her daughter, eyes narrowing. "Three years? _Rose_." She forgot her embarrassment in her concern for her daughter. She suddenly had a hundred questions - who had it been, had he been gentle, did she have any questions, was she being careful? - but she couldn't bring herself to ask when she'd just snapped that her own sex life was none of Rose's business.

Rose smirked at her. "You're practically dancing in your chair, y'know. You always do that when you want to ask questions. If you answer just one of mine about Malfoy, I'll answer yours."

Hermione toyed with her fork and shook her head at her daughter. "You've been spending too much time with your Uncle George. I knew I shouldn't have let you take that summer job at the joke shop. He's teaching you bad habits."

Rose laughed and popped a piece of carrot into her mouth. "You know you want to," she said in a teasing, sing-song voice. "You can't help yourself. You're the most curious person I know. Ravenclaw house has a 'Hermione Granger' award for the person who asks the most questions in a year."

Hermione put her head into her hands for a moment, then sighed, surrendering to the inevitable. She'd taught her children never to let up until they learned what they wanted to know. She should have known that would come back to bite her eventually. "All right, all right," she muttered into her palms. Lifting her head, she met Rose's eyes. "Was he-- No, were you.... Did you both...."

Her shoulders slumped and she huffed a piece of hair out of her eyes. "I reserve the right to ask my question later, once I've determined what I really want to know most. Your sex life is your own business, and you're right. I did teach you that you should never be ashamed of your sexuality or of expressing it." She shook one finger at her daughter when Rose grinned triumphantly. "As long as you're careful, Rose!"

"I am, Mum. I promise." Rose reached across the table and laid her hand on Hermione's. "I'm always careful. And I'll give you a freebie. He was very considerate and it was a good first time. Even if it wasn't very long," she added with a laugh.

Hermione clamped her lips between her teeth to stop herself from blurting out a dozen questions, then took a deep breath and settled herself. She'd made a deal. "All right. Now your question. Just one, mind you, and nothing with details. I'm not feeling _that_ progressive and open!"

Rose finished off her juice and pushed the cup aside. "Hmmm, in that case?" She stared up at the ceiling, tapping the tips of her fingers together. "Yeah, I'm going to have to go with my original question. How is he in bed?"

Hermione furrowed her brows and slowly shrugged. She thought about answering with the information she had from years past, but she felt that she owed Rose an honest response. "I wouldn't know. We're not sleeping together."

Rose gaped at her, eyes so wide that the whites were clearly visible. "Mum! You've been dating for nearly five months! How could you not know?"

"That's two questions," Hermione said archly. She chuckled at Rose's disgruntled expression, then took a sip of her juice. "There are a lot of factors involved, sweetheart. I wanted to be sure that we could have a relationship without sex affecting any emotions. I wanted it to feel right." She glanced down at her plate, the next words coming out in a soft whisper. "And as silly and girlish and daydreamy as it might be, I was hoping to ... well."

She lifted her eyes and gave a rueful smile to her daughter. "It doesn't matter how old I get or how many times I say it's just another day on a calendar. Sometimes I really want to do something _nice_ for Valentine's Day. It's in just under three weeks, and I was..." She drifted off and made a non-committal gesture.

Rose beamed at her. "Closet romantic, my mum. Who'd have guessed?" She leaned forward, dinner forgotten. "Does he know? Have you already started planning?"

Hermione shook her head and Rose jumped up from the table, rushing to the desk. She came back with a quill and parchment. "All right, Mum, time for one of your infamous lists." She poised the quill and looked intently at Hermione. "First things first. What will you wear?"

* * *

* * *

Hermione walked carefully as Draco led her down a corridor in his London townhouse. "Was the blindfold really necessary, Draco?" She squeezed his hand.

"Well, not necessary, perhaps. I could have told you to close your eyes, but I suspect you're the type who'd peek." 

Hermione laughed and tipped her head up to smile at him. "You're right," she said. "I would peek. I can't help myself." Draco's walking stick tapped on the floor, letting her hear the transition from carpet to a hard surface. She adjusted her balance so her heels wouldn't slip. "Where _are_ you taking me? This house didn't look this big from the outside."

"Magic," he said in a drawling tone of pointing out the obvious. Hermione smacked his arm and he chuckled. "Of course it's bigger on the inside. The townhouse was built in the seventeen-fifties. Camellia Crescent was intended to be an enclave of safety for the witches and wizards who wanted to experience city living. Everything was designed to look and feel exactly like every other well-off neighborhood for the wealthy and fashionable or the ones who wished they were. My great-great-grandfather was apparently quite infamous for his failure to pay a single merchant or vendor before the bill was at least six months past due. There may very well be a cravat seller who's still looking for his Sickles."

He drew her to a halt and told her to wait for a moment. Hermione heard him pull a chair away from a table, then Draco guided her to sit. When the chair was pushed forward, she could feel a soft tablecloth brushing the tops of her thighs. "If you've gone to this much trouble, I hope there's flowers, at least."

Draco's chuckle rolled over her, warming her skin. "I do know how to create a romantic date, Hermione. Valentine's Day isn't a day for sandwiches and tea." He slid his hand over her thin shoulder strap of her dress to toy with one of the ringlets dangling against her nape. She heard the rustle of his shirt as he bent close and she shivered when his breath warmed the shell of her ear. "It's a night for wine and desire."

He gently unfastened the blindfold and drew the soft silk away. Hermione kept her eyes closed, wanting to see everything in one moment. Draco kissed her, just beneath her ear in the hollow of her jaw. She leaned against his shoulder, head tipped to give him more access to her neck. He followed her movement with a smile she could feel on her skin. He trailed down the length of her neck, pausing at the curve of her shoulder to press his mouth there in a firm kiss.

Hermione reached one arm back and threaded her fingers through his hair. She settled her hand on his nape and hummed quietly with pleasure. Draco parted his lips and touched the point of his tongue to her skin. "God," Hermione muttered under her breath, her fingers tightening across the back of Draco's neck. "Do that again and I might not be willing to sit through dinner."

"Would that be such a bad thing?" Draco lifted his head and whispered against her ear. "I don't think you asked for a romantic dinner date specifically for tonight, Valentine's Day, because you only expected dinner. I know I agreed because I wanted more than that. Do we need to pretend?"

His lips touched her ear, brushing soft against her, then he gently took the shell of it between his teeth and gave the smallest tug. Hermione shuddered, sucking in air and expelling it with a gasp. He'd remembered. Why that little action aroused her so much, she'd never understood, but he'd discovered it their one night together all those years ago. And he remembered.

Hermione turned in the chair, wrapping both arms around his neck. She opened her eyes to look into his. This close, she could see the tiny flecks of darker color in the pale grey, flecks that turned as bright as polished steel. She cradled his cheeks, one thumb brushing down the line of his jaw. Slowly, she kissed the corner of his mouth and drew her tongue along the seam of his lips. 

He slid his hand into her hair, knocking loose a few of the pins holding her chignon in place. Hermione growled softly as Draco took a grip on her hair. She flicked the point of her tongue against his and slid one hand down his chest to tap at his belt buckle. Draco made a quiet sound, almost a grunt, and his eyes flashed darker. "No," Hermione said, hooking the tips of her fingers into his waistband. "No. I don't want to pretend. Dinner can wait. Take me to bed, Draco."

* * *

Hermione stood in the center of a sumptuous bedroom, her hands trembling at her sides, her hair loose around her shoulders. Draco finished lighting the last of a dozen candles and set his wand on a mahogany table beside the four-poster bed. He'd left his walking stick between the bed and small table and he favored his leg as he neared her. Hermione barely noticed. In the shimmering golden light, his pale hair gleamed but it was his eyes that held her. They shone brighter than stars when he looked at her. 

He cupped her cheeks, his hands shaking and warm against her skin. Hermione's knees felt weak and she settled her hands on his shoulders to keep herself balanced. "Draco," she whispered. "I--"

"Shh." He brushed his thumb over her lips and she fell silent. Draco looked at her, his eyes darkening as he watched her face, seeming to memorize her features. Slowly, he bent his head and kissed the corner of her lips. Hermione whimpered as Draco explored the shape of her mouth, each kiss as gentle and soft as a breeze. 

He slid his hands down her sides and caught her waist as his kiss deepened, pressing firmer against her lips. Hermione twined her arms around his neck and opened for him. Their tongues touched and stroked, then Draco took control, delving deep. He nipped at her mouth, tugged on her lip with his teeth, swallowed each of her soft groans. Her heart pounded against her chest, so fast and hard that she was sure he could hear it. 

When he pulled away from the kiss, she moaned in protest. Draco laughed quietly, the sound rolling through her and heating her skin, and he squeezed her waist. "Sorry," he murmured, his lips trailing along her jaw to tug lightly on her earlobe. "I'd love to stand here and kiss you for hours, but my leg...."

Hermione nodded, understanding. Her knees were feeling weak as it was. She wouldn't be able to stand up for much longer, either. Draco took her hand and led her the few steps to the bed. He sat on the edge of it and reached for the sash of her dress.

Hermione pushed his hands away. "Let me." Draco raised his brows, smiling, and settled back. Hermione slowly untied the sash around her waist and unfastened the single button holding the wrapped fabric at her hip. She let the lace and chiffon slide from her shoulders to puddle at her feet. Draco let out a shaking breath and the sound made Hermione smile. Her body was softer, rounder than it had been the last time he'd seen her undressed, but he certainly didn't seem to mind. From the dark shade of his eyes and the tenting in his trousers, he appreciated what he saw.

She drew her hands up her stomach to cradle her breasts, her thumbs running along the lace edging of the bra cups. Her nipples were already stiff, poking through the satin, and she pinched them gently. Draco gave a soft groan and Hermione smiled to see his eyes locked on her hands. She stroked one hand down her stomach and pushed her fingers beneath the narrow triangle of her knickers. Draco's eyes snapped there, widening as she stretched her fingers down to slip between her folds.

She pressed the tip of her middle finger inside herself and bit her lip to hold back a groan at how slick she already felt. As she drew her hand free of her knickers, she rubbed over her clit and shivered. Reaching out to Draco, she painted the shape of his mouth with her wetness. Draco growled and caught her wrist to hold her in place. He licked his lips, then licked her fingers. Hermione trembled, watching the concentration and pleasure in his eyes. She liked a man who didn't object to the taste of a woman and wasn't ashamed to go down on her. She knew that he wasn't, not in the slightest. He enjoyed it.

That would have to wait for a later time, though. It had been too long since she'd had sex and the heat of Draco's gaze had her halfway to orgasm as it was. She'd meant to take her time, to strip them both slowly and tease him, but she had no patience left. The same desire that had led her to suggest they skip dinner had her tugging at his clothes and boots. "Quick," she heard herself mutter. "Now, dammit."

Clothing scattered, hands rushed, lips explored. Within a few heartbeats, it felt, Hermione was naked in Draco's bed, his bare skin pressed to hers. He kissed her fiercely, one hand toying with her nipples, his cock solid and hard against her hip. Hermione twisted enough to face him and threw her leg over her hip. She wriggled her hand between them and wrapped her fingers around his cock to stroke him fast. Draco buried his face in the curve of her shoulder and groaned, thrusting into the channel of her fingers.

"Can't wait," he mumbled. "Hermione, Hermi-- _Fuck_. I can't wait." He pushed at her shoulder and Hermione rolled to her back, her thighs spreading for him. Draco moved over her, balanced on one forearm, and slipped two fingers deep into her cunt. Hermione groaned loud and long, clutching at his biceps. Draco withdrew his fingers and she felt his hand bumping against her leg as he gripped his cock.

He rubbed the tip between her folds, brushing it over her clit. Hermione dug her nails into his arms in a frantic attempt to pull his body down. "Don't tease," she ordered, her voice rough and growling. "Now, Draco."

"Just give me a mo--" He cut himself off with a deep moan as he slipped into her, filling her in one stroke. Hermione swore and planted her feet in the mattress to shift the angle of her hips. On Draco's next thrust, he slid over her G-spot. Hermione shrieked, raking her nails down his back to cling to his hips.

Draco drove into her, each thrust deep and hard, giving her barely enough time to breathe. The bed creaked and Draco slammed one hand over her head, bracing them against the wall. He kept his eyes on hers, his face red and his mouth hanging open as he pumped into her. She could feel her body tightening, her muscles tensing as orgasm rose in her. "Draco," she said, panting for breath around her words. "Draco, god. _Fuck_ me, fuck. Harder."

He shook his head, his fringe sticking to his temples and cheeks. His face twisted in a strained grimace. "Can't. Leg. Can't, Hermione, I'm-- This is all I have. Sorry if it's not working for you."

He looked so wretched at the thought he might be disappointing her. Hermione wrapped her arm around his neck and drew him down for a kiss. Draco slowed his movements, his hand slipping beneath her to cradle her head. Hermione lifted her knees, rocking her hips to keep the sensations alive. "It's all right," she whispered against his mouth. "We have time. We have loads of time to get everything right."

* * *

Hermione stretched and rolled over, waking gradually as the morning sun warmed the air. She snuggled in against Draco's side, her hand across his chest. His breathing was steady, his heartbeat slow beneath her palm. She kissed his chest, lips brushing the edge of the flat pink disc of his nipple. 

His breathing shifted and his arm slipped around her, fingers tangling in her hair. "Morning," Hermione said, glancing under her lashes at him. His eyes were open, though still hazy. She smiled to herself, the exhaustion in Draco's face filling her with a feminine pride. They'd worn each other out over the course of the night, and the ache in her hips and thighs would be a pleasant reminder for the next couple of days. "Didn't mean to wake you."

"I was awake," he said. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, then yawned behind his hand. "Just didn't want to move. I was very comfortable. Rather enjoyed waking up with you in my arms."

"Mmm, same here." Hermione laid her head on his shoulder. Draco pressed a kiss into her hair and nestled into the pillows with a pleased hum. Hermione closed her eyes, listening to his heartbeat and the quiet rhythm of his breathing. She felt as though she could drift away like that, content and satiated, with no concerns in the world except the steady thrum of Draco's heart beneath her ear and the warmth of his hand on her bare back. 

She lay with him, silent and drowsy, until a soft chime came from the far side of the room. Hermione knotted her brows, unconsciously counting the strikes. The clock sounded ten, and Hermione gasped. She sat up with a flurry of hair and limbs, knocking Draco's hand away from her body, flinging the blanket and sheet to the foot of the bed. "Ten!" she yelped as she scrambled out of the bed to find her knickers. "Ten, my god. Draco, I can't believe you let me sleep this late!"

He sat up, rubbing his eyes and staring at her blearily. "This is hardly late, as far as I'm concerned. It's still morning. No rush."

"It's a school day!"

Draco's eyes widened. He shoved both hands through his hair, wrestling the strands into a semblance of neatness, and swung his legs out of bed. "Right. School day. School librarian. Ten. Oh fuck, you should have opened the library three hours ago."

Hermione didn't answer him, too busy scurrying around the room to gather up her clothes and tug them on. There was no hope for her hair, tangled and disheveled from her night's activities, and she let it sway loose against her back. She fastened her bra and shoved her feet into the tall heels. She would have to change at the school, as quickly as possible so that she could open the library. "God, half of Ravenclaw house is probably already in the infirmary with panic attacks," she muttered, frantically jerking her dress around her and knotting the sash at her waist.

She scanned the room, looking for anything she might have forgotten. Draco limped toward her, a pair of lightweight pyjama bottoms hanging loose from his hips. He caught her cheeks in both hands and tipped her head up for a kiss. As rushed as she felt, Hermione sank into the press of his mouth on hers. She slid her hands around his waist and dragged her nails down his spine, laughing under her breath when she felt the twitch of his cock against her stomach. "Well," she said as she forced herself to take a step back. "Can't get distracted. I'll need your Floo, if you don't mind."

"Not in the slightest. I'll send you an owl later," Draco said with a grin. He sat on the edge of the bed, absently massaging his knee. He glanced up at her, and Hermione caught a look in his eyes. It looked as though he wanted to say something more and she waited, brows raised in question. After a moment, he shook his head and looked away. "Better hurry before they start dragging the lake for you."

Hermione furrowed her brow, but the clock chimed the quarter hour. She didn't have time to question him. She waved and impulsively blew him a kiss before hurrying from the bedroom to find a Floo. With luck, she could get to her chambers and change into her work robes before anyone noticed she was still wearing last night's dress.

* * *

Judging by the number of books that were checked out of the library that day, her arrival at Hogwarts had been observed. Hermione stamped a return date with unnecessary force and pushed the book across the counter to the waiting Hufflepuff first year, silently swearing at whichever one of the founders had decided that staff did not each deserve their own Floo entrances. She'd hurried through the empty corridors, practically ran to her chambers while most of the students were in class, but apparently she hadn't managed to avoid being seen. Gossip, unlike Quidditch, was a sport everyone could play, and she was positive that every last student at Hogwarts had passed through the library at some point in the afternoon.

A young man in Ravenclaw robes approached the counter, and Hermione tensed for another tearful lament about schedules and opening times and intense needs for books. It seemed as though every student in that house had been on the verge of death without the library.

"Breathe, Mum," said the amused voice that still wavered between soprano and tenor. 

Hermione looked up, focused, and smiled in relief at her son. "Hugo," she said, rising to step around the counter and give him a quick hug. She absently straightened his tie and smoothed his collar before muttering a soft apology when he gave her a long-suffering look for her motherly fussing. She squeezed his shoulders with a laugh instead. "Will you be joining Rose and me for dinner tonight?"

"Just need to get through two more chapters of Arithmancy, and I'll be there. Got an exam coming up next week and I need to go over my differentials again." Hugo dropped a heavy satchel on the counter and leaned both arms on it as Hermione took her seat. He watched her for a minute, then cleared his throat. "So ... have a good night, did you?"

Hermione grabbed a stack of borrower's cards and began ruthlessly alphabetizing them. "I had a very pleasant evening, thank you for asking, and I'll thank you not to ask any further."

"Don't think I need to," Hugo said. "I can see what sort of night you had." Hermione looked up, her brows raised, and Hugo tapped one finger against the side of his throat.

Hermione could feel the color draining from her cheeks. She snatched her wand from her sleeve and tapped it on the rim of her water glass. A droplet rose into the air, widening and flattening into a temporary mirror. She peered into it and gave a tiny shriek. Running from the hollow beneath her ear and under her collar was a line of reddened marks. It didn't take much imagination to see the shape of lips and the imprints of teeth in her skin.

She buried her face in her hands, swearing quietly. She hadn't taken the time to look in a mirror that morning, only changed clothes, thrown on her work robes, and rushed to the library as she plaited her hair into a messy, loose braid. Now - _now_ , god - she saw the reason that everyone had wandered through the library that day. She hadn't been spotted on her arrival or in the corridors. She'd been walking around the entire day with a series of lovebites on her throat. That explained why no one had looked her in the eye. She couldn't even remember when Draco had done that to her.

"Look, Mum, it's none of my business what you do with the man," Hugo said in a low voice. "Long as you're happy. Just tell me that you were in agreement with whatever he did so I don't have to hex him."

"I was," she mumbled into her palms. Sighing, she lifted her head and touched her wand to her throat, covering up the marks with a hurried concealment charm. For good measure, she loosened her hair and drew a handful of it over her shoulder to shadow her throat. She dismissed her mirror and looked up at her son. "Hugo, I'm fine. Everything's fine. Please, let's not talk about this, definitely not here."

He grinned at her. "Yeah, it can wait until dinner. But you're not going to be able to avoid Rose's questions. Best you start thinking of answers now, Mum." He leaned over the counter and knocked his forehead against hers affectionately, like he'd done when he was still small enough to be carried. "Use your head," he said with a small laugh before grabbing his satchel and disappearing into the stacks.

* * *

* * *

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione stopped in the middle of the path leading to the castle's herb gardens and turned to greet the tall blond student hurrying toward her. "Scorpius," she said with a smile. "Lovely weather, isn't it? Have you been flying?" His cheeks were pink and his hair mussed, his shirt untucked from his trousers.

Scorpius glanced down at himself and the pink color of his cheeks deepened. He quickly stuffed his shirt into his waistband, tucking it in around his hips. "Er, no. Not exactly. I was ... out. With Matt. Behind the greenhouses. Don't take house points, please."

Hermione lifted her brows and blinked, then cleared her throat and glanced away. After what she and Draco had done in the townhouse's garden the weekend before, she certainly had no room to talk about getting amorous outdoors. She hoped Scorpius had been quicker than his father with a sunblock charm, though. By Sunday evening, Draco's complaints about sunburn had faded, even if the reddened skin hadn't. "I see. Well. You're in luck, because I am going to pretend that I didn't hear that or see anything." She clapped her hands and gave a patently false innocent whistle before grinning and patting Scorpius' shoulder. She gestured ahead on the path and started to walk again. "Moving on. What can I help you with?"

Scorpius fell into step beside her, his long stride settling into a loose saunter. He shoved both hands into his pockets and shook his fringe out of his eyes. "Wanted to make sure you got your invitation to my party next month. You are coming, right? Rose and Hugo already said they were going to be there. Got acceptances from just about everybody except Primrose Zabini, but she's always late. You're the last one."

Hermione tugged at her sleeves, adjusting her cuffs. Her children had been talking of nothing else for the previous week, and she was thrilled to see how pleased they were about the invitation. She was even more thrilled that Scorpius had extended it to so many people. From gossip she'd overheard in the library and the Great Hall at meals, Scorpius had invited a handful of people from every house. She knew Draco would be as proud as one of his father's peacocks to know that his son was friends with such a wide variety of young witches and wizards. The only problem she had with the party and party guests was the invitation she'd received. She'd been staring at it every night for three days already and she still didn't know precisely what to say. Scorpius was looking at her with so much expectation, though, that she couldn't take any longer thinking of an answer. He deserved a response. "Oh, I don't know. I'm not certain that's a good idea. I appreciate the invitation, Scorpius, I do, and I'm very flattered. It was kind of you to ask me. I'll be sending along a birthday gift with Rose and Hugo, but I just don't think I should go myself."

"Why not?" Scorpius paused at a bend in the path, one foot up on a boulder, and leaned both arms on his knee. "I know Dad would love to see you. He's really why I invited you in any case. I mean, not that you're not a great person on your own, but you're not exactly in my age group, right? I do want you there, though. Dad's already said that he's going to spend the whole weekend with me, even if that means he won't be seeing you. And that's just not right. You've been doing so great and all that and ... well. I think you're fantastic for him and I don't want you missing out on one of your dates. Come on and join us." He cocked his head and gave her a pleading look. 

Hermione stood still for a minute, chewing her lip and wondering if she should explain her reluctance to him. She didn't know how much history he knew, how much he might understand of what had happened to her so long ago. If Scorpius had decided to hold his birthday party at the townhouse in London, she would have accepted without hesitation, but spending an entire weekend at Malfoy Manor....

" _Please_?" Scorpius asked, holding one hand out to her. "Please, Miss Granger? I want all my friends there, and you dating my dad makes us friends, right? Say you'll come."

* * *

"I cannot believe that I let Scorpius talk me into this," Hermione said, snuggling in against Draco's side to watch Scorpius show off his new broom to his friends. They were leaning on a low stone wall that twisted around several flower beds. The Manor's grounds were well-kept but uneven, and his leg had begun to twinge as they followed the group of adolescents out of the house. "Though that cake was a fantastic argument. If I'd known about that in advance, I would have accepted my invitation straight off."

He squeezed her shoulders with a soft laugh. "He's persuasive," he said as the gathered teenagers picked sides for an impromptu Quidditch match on the Manor lawn. "Can't help yourself, can you? You take one look at his eyes and you just ... well, you sort of melt, don't you? It was a trial and a half when he was a child, I know that. 'Daddy, let's go for a fly. Daddy, take me up on your shoulders. Daddy, let me stay up late so you can read to me.' Then he'd bat his lashes and give that winsome smile and that was it. I lost my resolve every time. I got so many scoldings from Astoria, I can't even tell you."

Hermione smiled. "Rose was exactly like that. Always following Ron around, asking for his attention. Hugo took after me. He was happy to be left alone to read, but Rose wanted her daddy."

Draco ran his fingers through her hair, twining a long, curling lock around his thumb. "Speaking of your ex-husband," he said slowly.

Hermione thumped her head on his shoulder and sighed. "Do we have to? I'm having a grand time, and I'd rather not have that fussed with."

"Actually, I wasn't going to say a single bad thing about him. I did get a letter from him this past week, you should know, and surprisingly? Not that many bad things in it about me. He did say that if I hurt you, he'd make sure that I suffered for it, but the overall impression was that while he didn't much care for us together, I was clearly making you happy and I'd obviously changed enough that I _could_. Some rather tortured metaphor about a snake shedding its skin was in there as well. I gather that I don't precisely have his approval, but he's not going to present any further objections to our relationship."

Hermione watched the pack of adolescents mounting up on brooms for a minute, her mind whirling. The slight argument in progress over shirts and skins was quickly resolved by Rose and a threatening gesture of her knee toward a tall, gangling boy who had to be Theodore Nott's son. Rose's team, still in possession of their shirts, mounted brooms and rose into the air as Scorpius' team charmed brilliant green armbands into place. 

When the whistle blew and the match began in earnest, Hermione cleared her throat and looked up at Draco. He was watching her with a still expression, only his eyes showing any evidence of his thoughts. Her long silence clearly had him unsettled, with tense muscles and fine lines at the corners of his eyes. Hermione cupped his cheek and brushed her thumb along those small wrinkles. "That's good," she said, turning in his arms to press against him, the hem of her skirt fluttering around his shins. "Not that I would have let his disapproval stop me, since I haven't so far, but it's nice to hear."

"Mmm." The tension in Draco's face eased and he tipped his head to kiss her palm. "I suppose he isn't that bad after all."

Hermione snorted and gave his arm a swat. "No, he isn't, thank you very much. And neither are you."

"And neither am I," Draco agreed with a cheerful grin. "Which came as a surprise to everyone, including myself."

He settled his arms around her waist, fingers rubbing gently at the small of her back beneath her light jumper. "So, that's my late wife, your ex-husband, my son, your children. Seems like everyone is all right with our relationship." He wrinkled his nose and huffed. "Except for Potter. I haven't heard anything about his stance on all this. Should I be worried?"

Hermione twined her arms around Draco's neck, her fingers threading through the long strands of his hair, slightly mussed by the wind. "Harry said, and I quote, 'I hope you know what you're doing. Have you seen the Milford file?' He's a little busy in the department right now. I think he's more concerned with whether Ginny's going to kill him for working all night again than with the status of our relationship."

Draco hummed, tipping his head slightly. Hermione followed the unspoken direction and rubbed just behind his ear. Draco's lashes fluttered in pleasure, making Hermione grin. "I think as long as I can make your eyes roll back in your head like that, the status of our relationship is just fine, Mister Malfoy."

Draco tightened his grip around her waist, jerking her close to his chest. He dipped his head and nuzzled against her neck. Hermione clung to him, her legs suddenly weak as his lips explored the hollow of her throat. She tried to put words together, tried to think of something more to tease him, but the point of his tongue flicked over her pulse and her brain melted. "That's, um. That's.... _Draco_."

He kissed up to her ear and growled softly. "I know you took a guest room for the weekend. I don't want you sleeping there. I want you in _my_ bed."

"Draco, I don't--" His teeth fastened on the shell of her ear and he bit down gently. Hermione let out a moan, her knees buckling. She clutched at Draco as her head dropped back. Her hair swung loose in the mild breeze that made faint effort to cool her heated skin.

"Oi, Mum, Mister Malfoy! Get a room!"

Draco swore and Hermione snapped her head up. Hovering at tree-top level, just above them, was Rose, her mouth stretched in a wide, gleeful grin. Hermione took a quick step back as Draco released her to grab his walking stick from its place against the stone wall. Rose let out a whooping cheer and pumped one fist in the air. "Go on, Mum!" she shouted. "Grab that Snitch! Hit that Bludger! Granger, Granger, gonna _score_!"

"Rose!" Hermione shrieked, burying her face in her hands. Her skin felt as hot as flames and she was certain the blush wouldn't fade for weeks.

Rose swooped down and twitched her broom to tap the bristles against Draco's shoulder. "Just use Silencing charms," she teased, flying out of reach quickly. "Knowing's different from hearing."

"Rose, incoming!" shouted one of the boys, and Rose shot away after the Quaffle, her wild laugh filling the air.

Hermione looked at Draco helplessly. He shrugged and twirled his walking stick. "Being encouraged to have sex is better than being informed we're too _old_ for it, I suppose?"

Hermione slumped on the wall next to him and shook her head. "My daughter. What am I going to do with her?"

"Lock her in a small room with nothing but pumpkin juice and digestive biscuits?"

She snorted. The interruption had relaxed her, loosening her objections to spending the weekend in Draco's bed instead of the guest wing. It wasn't as though her children and his son wouldn't already be expecting them to sleep together. "Can't do that. She's my instigator." She slipped her arm around his waist and grinned up at him. "And my style consultant. She picked out my Valentine's Day lingerie, which I seem to remember you appreciating very much."

Draco raised his eyebrows and looked over at the match. "I'll have to send her a thank you card." His hand slid up Hermione's back and he hooked one finger into the wide collar of her jumper, lifting it to peer at her shoulder and the blue strap of her bra. "Did she suggest this, which I assume has matching knickers?"

Hermione chewed on her lip and tilted her head to give him an arch look. "She did and it does. But I have a secret." She nipped at his earlobe and whispered to him. "I'm not wearing them."

* * *

The party guests gathered in the Manor's entertainment room with snacks and fizzy drinks. Hermione, standing at the door, smiled to see everyone piled together like puppies, tangled in a mass on the floor and draped across the sofa. A technologically-inclined Muggle-born had finally invented a television that would run on magic instead of electricity, and the teenagers were all chattering excitedly about the new set Draco had purchased and installed. 

Hermione watched the credits of a comedy film begin before slipping away to get the last of her bags from the guest room she wouldn't be using. She walked through the upper corridor toward Draco's suite of rooms, avoiding the narrowed eyes and pinched faces of most of the portraits that decorated the walls. Draco and his son might approve of her, but the Malfoy ancestors didn't seem to much.

One portrait cleared its throat and called her name in a soft voice. Hermione paused, glancing that way, then she smiled wide and walked over to greet the dark-haired woman inside. "Astoria," she said and held up her hand in a wave. "What a lovely frame."

"Thank you." Astoria's voice was as throaty in death as it had been in life, but her smile was even brighter. She drew a chair up to the bottom edge of her frame and settled into it, putting her face closer to Hermione's. "Draco has been very happy recently," she said. "He's spoken to me several times about you. I'm glad you gave him a chance."

Hermione put her bag on a low bench under Astoria's portrait and absently trailed her finger around the subtle feathers carved into the painting's frame. "So am I," she said, a little unsettled to be discussing her relationship with the portrait of Draco's late wife. On the other hand, Astoria had been a good friend in life, and they had plenty in common even beyond Draco himself. "We're getting on quite well. He's made me very happy."

Astoria folded her arms on the bottom of the portrait and laid her cheek on them. "Good. Has he made any hints of making your relationship more permanent?" At Hermione's startled blink, she smiled. "Not that a woman _needs_ a husband to have a full life, of course, but I had hoped things might lead that way when I suggested to him that he look you up after I died. He's been a little bit in love with you for years, and from what I can tell, that little bit has grown to more than a lot these past months."

Hermione looked up and down the corridor as if she thought Draco might appear from the dark woodwork or ancient tapestries that lined the walls. "I wouldn't know," she said in a low voice. "He hasn't said. I know he _cares_ , and I know he has feelings for me, but he's never said exactly what those feelings might be."

Astoria lifted her head to lean her cheek on one hand. "Have you said it to him?"

Hermione managed a tiny smile. "I'm a little nervous about that. It's there, don't get me wrong, all of that sort of feeling and such. It's all there. But actually saying it.... I don't know. I've had the impression several times that he was _about_ to say something along those lines, and I keep hoping he will, and I keep thinking that maybe I will instead, but--"

Hermione flushed and went silent, pretending to examine her nails, but she looked up from under her lashes when Astoria gave a soft laugh. "Waiting for him to say it first? He won't. I'm sorry to say it, but he won't. Hermione, Draco and I courted for two years before our marriage. The first time he ever said he loved me was an hour before our wedding. He's far more affectionate and warm-hearted than plenty of people give him credit for, but words aren't his strength. I loved him dearly, and I suspect that you do as well. You'll have to let him know that it's safe to say, but more importantly, that you want him - or need him, even - to say it. I'll leave it up to you to figure out how to go about that. You're a terrifyingly smart woman."

Hermione touched two fingers to Astoria's hand. "Thank you. I ... I really appreciate that. I needed to hear it."

"Any time. And if I have the right end of it, I'm sure we'll have plenty of time to chat again. I think I'll be seeing you around the Manor more often in the future. Have Draco show you the wildflower garden once summer comes." Astoria gave an impish smile and pointed down the corridor. "Now go on. When Scorpius told him that you _would_ be here for the weekend, he spent four days going over every inch of the master suite in hopes you'd stay with him. New linens and everything. I think he even got some of those fizzy bath things in case you wanted to see just how deep that tub is - and it's deep enough for two, I assure you. Go show him that his efforts are appreciated, why don't you?"

"God, even the portraits are telling me to shag the man," Hermione said with a laugh and a blush. "Fine, I'll take the hint."

* * *

Hermione stood in a massive bathroom, her eyes so wide they nearly hurt. She couldn't look away from the tub nestled in an alcove beneath a quartet of mullioned windows. Surrounded by a wide, polished stone ledge, it looked large enough to hold a dozen people. She slipped out of her shoes and hummed in pleasure at the heated floor. "Oh, that's nice," she said to herself as she wriggled her toes.

She tugged off her jumper and let it fall behind her as she walked toward the tub. Her skirt and bra followed, and she let herself indulge in a long, luxurious stretch. She twisted her hair into a loose knot atop her head. The wall beside the alcove held dozens of thick, fluffy towels, and she pulled two down to use for pillows. 

The tub filled far more quickly than she expected, and she nearly giggled with excitement as she poured bath salts into the water. Steam rose around her with the scents of lilac and freesia. She sank into the water, rested her head on the towels, and closed her eyes to let herself drift.

She didn't know if she was there for seconds or for hours, and she didn't care. It was easily the most luxurious bath she'd had in her life. The door creaked open and she heard the click of Draco's walking stick on the tiles but didn't open her eyes. "I've changed my mind," she said quietly, lifting one hand out of the water to gesture vaguely in the air. "I shouldn't have been told about the cake to secure my visit. I should have been told about this _bath_. I'm never leaving it."

Draco's deep chuckle heated her as much as the water. "Fortunately, it's charmed. The water won't go cold until you get out. You could possibly stay in there forever, though I've never tested it past several hours." Water rippled against her leg and she felt his fingers brush her knee. "You look like a nymph," he said. "Does that make me a satyr or a faun? I can't remember."

"Depends on if we're going with Greek or Roman mythology. Considering your family's history of names, such as Lucius and Brutus, I think Roman is more likely. I do appreciate that you're a less-hairy, non-goat-legged faun, however." Hermione opened her eyes and smiled at him. "I hope you don't mind that I made myself comfortable. I couldn't resist."

Draco arched his brows and gave her a slow, wicked smile. "There's a beautiful, naked woman in my bathtub. The only thing I mind is that I'm not in there with her."

She licked her lips, lifting her head enough to look him over. "You're welcome to join me."

He leaned his walking stick against the rack of towels and stripped quickly, his clothes flung across the room with abandon. Hermione laughed with glee as Draco clambered into the opposite end of the tub. He slipped under the water and pushed up, slicking his hair back as he settled into position. "God," he groaned, a look of deep pleasure suffusing his face. "Nothing better than a soak in a hot bath. I see you found the salts. Or," he added with a long sniff. "I smell that you found them. Lilac?"

"One of my favorites. Something that you should keep in mind for the future." Hermione pushed off and through the water to straddle Draco's legs. His eyes snapped open and he hissed, grabbing her waist. Hermione ignored the mini-wave that spilled over the side. She wriggled on his thighs, giggling as the water lapped at her nipples. "I had an idea," she pronounced, one hand slipping down his chest to fondle his cock. 

It twitched in her fingers and Draco stifled a groan. "I'm fairly certain I have the same idea," he muttered. "And I happen to know that the buoyancy of the water means my weak leg isn't quite so weak." He gripped her waist tight and lifted her, pulling her closer to his hips in the same motion. 

Laughing wildly, Hermione clutched Draco's shoulders. "Great minds, in that case." She dipped to kiss the side of his throat, shivering as he rubbed his thumb over her clit. " _Very_ great minds."

* * *

* * *

Hermione moved her drink away as Harry thumped into the chair next to her. "You made it," she said, grinning at him. "Good thing. I think Ginny actually was going to kill you if you missed another family event. She asked me to research castration charms in the Restricted Section, I'll have you know."

Harry ruffled his fringe, the lightning scar peeking out briefly between the messy strands, and rolled his eyes. "Seven different Aurors yesterday reminded me that I had this picnic to attend. She's been going behind my back again."

"Don't look to me for sympathy. I'm on her side with this one." Hermione looked across the lawn behind the Burrow as a whooping cry rose up. In the middle of the lawn, Dean bounced a football off his knee and the top of his head to knock it at one of the Scamander twins. She grinned to see a whole pack of magical children trying to learn a Muggle game. The lawn was a mess of transfigured jerseys and a sea of hair, mostly Weasley red, with a handful on the darker end of the spectrum and a scattered few in blond shades. Near the edge of the group, the sun glinted off hair so pale it shone like diamonds, Scorpius down on one knee to chat with Percy's youngest daughter.

When she turned back to Harry, he was peering at her over the tops of his glasses. "Is he the only Malfoy in attendance?" he asked, nodding towards the football training in progress. "Or did you bring his father along?"

"Rose invited them both to attend," she said primly. "And they both accepted. Draco's in the kitchen, helping Audrey with the trays."

Harry leaned back in his chair. "Draco Malfoy, helping with manual labor. I don't know if I'm more shocked by that or by him being anywhere near a Weasley, even a Weasley by marriage, voluntarily."

Hermione smacked his arm gently. "Stop that. Draco's been wonderful the past several months and you know it."

Shrugging, Harry dragged his thumbnail along the seam of his jeans. "Yeah, suppose I do. He's made you happy, that's the important bit, right? He's grown up and all."

"We've all grown up. We have wrinkles and creaking knees and everything," Hermione said with a smile. "And yes. He makes me happy. He makes me deliriously happy. I don't expect many of you to ever do much more than be civil to him, since I think getting you to be friends is something that would require the joint efforts of Merlin and Morgana, but at least you're all civil. That counts for something in my book."

"Counts for something in mine, too." Harry shifted his chair around to face her and sat with his hands dangling between his knees. "Been what now? Nine, ten months? Things are pretty serious between you, then?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes, catching the quick glimpse Harry gave to her left hand. "He hasn't proposed, if that's what you mean." Harry flushed and ducked his head to rub his chin on his shoulder. Hermione snorted and shook her head. "We're serious. We're not quite _there_ yet, but I think we're not far off from it. I think he was waiting until the school year ended."

"You're going to say yes?" 

Harry met her eyes and Hermione smiled to herself at the look of concern she could see deep in his green gaze. Harry would always be on her side, would always be supportive. He had always been a very good friend in that regard, and she loved him for it. She knew he was just worried about her, like any good friend would be. She patted his shoulder as she uncurled her legs from beneath her, bare toes brushing the cool grass. "Yes," she said in a low voice. "Yes, I'll say yes. When he asks. We're taking our time, Harry."

Harry exhaled slowly and gave her the smallest hint of a smile. "I would say I hope you know what you're doing," he said. "But I think you do. So I suppose I'll say that I hope you'll be very happy."

Hermione laughed. "I am, I will be, all of that. Stop _fretting_ , Harry James Potter. We've had a few bobbles, like any other couple, but we're getting on very well."

The rear door of the Burrow opened and Draco emerged, levitating a huge tray laden with sandwiches ahead of him. He'd pushed his sleeves up to his elbows, she noticed. The Dark Mark had faded to a pale scar, barely visible unless one was looking for it up close, but he still tended to keep it covered when he thought a situation might be uncomfortable. She smiled broadly to see that he felt relaxed enough not to hide his arm in this company. 

Harry cleared his throat and Hermione glanced at him, blushing lightly when he snickered. "Caught staring?" she mumbled.

"Yeah." He stood and offered his hand to help her up. "But I'm glad I caught you. Now that I've seen _that_ smile on your face, aimed at _him_? I'll never tease you about him again."

Hermione looped her arm through his to walk to the half-dozen tables set up under the trees. "You're a liar. You'll tease me even more now."

Harry laughed. "That I will." He walked her up to Draco and coughed. "Malfoy."

Draco tensed and looked wary, his walking stick held tight at his side. "Potter."

Hermione started a warning "Gentlemen--" but Harry stuck out his hand and she fell silent, her eyes widening. Draco examined it for a moment as if there might be spikes all over Harry's palm, then slowly shook hands with Harry. Hermione smiled, feeling as though there was sunshine in her chest, and stepped to Draco's side. She wrapped her arm around his waist and beamed up at him. "Thank you," she said to him before looking to Harry. "And thank you."

"I promised to be on good behavior," Draco said, slipping his arm around her shoulders and giving her a gentle squeeze. "I was promised a reward if I obeyed." He glanced down at her, licked his bottom lip, and raised one brow. "A _special_ reward."

Hermione smacked his chest as Harry made gagging sounds. "Draco!" Blush rising in her cheeks, she went up on her toes to kiss Draco's cheek. "Very special," she whispered to him. She slipped out of his embrace to take his hand and tug him to the table. "C'mon, stop frightening Harry. Let's get something to eat before all those kids notice it's there. I've seen the way Scorpius eats and I don't want to miss out on the ham."

* * *

Draco sat on the edge of a rickety miniature dock, idly skimming his feet along the top of the water as Hermione splashed in the shallow creek. It was an innocent, childlike way to spend an hour, and she sang quietly to herself while she startled little silver fish.

The afternoon had gone wonderfully. Dean taught almost everyone how to play football, and the match ended with only two bloody noses and a half-dozen scraped knees, the least amount of injuries at a Weasley gathering she'd seen in a long time. Scorpius proved to be a master of goal keeping, despite being up against Rose's ferocious kicks and young Fred's unerring aim. Even Draco knocked a ball off one shoulder for the amusement of the group.

Hermione plucked a triangular rock off the bottom of the stream and brushed a bit of mud away from an indentation in the center of one edge. "Look," she said, wading through the shallows to stand beside the dock. She held the stone up to Draco. "Doesn't that look like a snake's head? Fangs, even, if you put your thumb here in this dip."

Draco took a glance at the rock and nodded, but he had a distracted look in his eyes. He returned his attention to the horizon, apparently focused on the clouds that scudded low across the sky as the sun sank. Hermione put the stone on the dock and folded her arms on the wood. "What's wrong?" she asked quietly. "Too many Weasleys and Gryffindors? You've put plenty of time in today on good behavior. If you're ready to leave, I don't think anyone would object." He'd done far more than make a token appearance to satisfy Rose's invitation. He'd been friendly and smiling the entire afternoon, had joined in the games and activities - he'd even lent his voice to the sing-along, though he and Scorpius both had been horrifyingly off-key. Most of the picnic guests had told her privately how impressed they were with him for his assistance and participation. Hermione was pleased with the efforts Draco had made that day, but she didn't want to push him too far.

She settled one hand on his knee, fingers pressing into the muscles of his thigh. "Is your leg hurting?" she asked, hoping to draw out what had him so pensive and quiet.

Draco made a soft noise of thanks, but laid his hand over hers to stop her from beginning a light massage. "I'm all right," he said. "Just doing some thinking." 

Hermione hummed in acknowledgment and climbed up on the bank to join him on the end of the dock. She laid her head against his shoulder, eyes closed, and listened to leaves and grass rustling in the soft breeze. Draco wrapped his hand around hers and rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. Hermione raised her brows as she felt him concentrate his efforts on her ring finger. She could hear his breath change, a slow inhale of preparation. 

"I talked to Potter earlier," he said slowly. "As seems to be traditional when it comes to your friends, he threatened me a bit. If you ever hurt her, don't stop running, me and Dumbledore's Army, that sort of thing." He chuckled and squeezed her hand when she gave a soft groan. "I don't mind. It's ... sweet, in a way. Nice to hear that they're all so protective of you, as long as they're supportive at the same time. You're very lucky, Hermione. So many people care about you."

Hermione stayed silent. Draco's tone told her that he wasn't finished, that he hadn't said everything he wanted to say, and after a couple of minutes he took another slow, deep breath. "I care about you," he murmured, releasing her hand to put his arm around her and hold her close to his side. "I care about a great deal. More than that, more than care. I-I-I. I've been falling for you for a long time, since we first started seeing each other. But, god, you knew that. Er, that is. Hermione, I'm-I'm not good at saying things that need to be said, but I need to say this. I just wanted to find the right time and it's never felt like the right time. I don't...." He sighed and groaned under his breath. "I am absolutely _shit_ at this."

Hermione reached up to cup his cheek. She guided him to look at her, to meet her eyes. "Draco," she said, giving him a warm smile. She sat up on her knees to face him, both arms around his shoulders. She remembered what Astoria had told her, how Draco could be when it came to this particular emotion. He needed to feel safe, needed to know that his declaration would be accepted and returned. "Draco, I know. I know and I feel the same. I love you."

His eyes gleamed. For a moment he held his breath, then he exhaled sharply. His entire face brightened and he smiled wide, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Oh, thank god. Thank _god_. I didn't know how I was going to manage to say that on my own. Are you aware those are the three most difficult words to say in the English language?"

Hermione laughed and kissed the corner of his mouth. "Yes, I am. I can't believe how hard they are." She slipped one hand from around his shoulders and held it up to show him how much her fingers were trembling. Draco took her hand and brought it to his mouth. He kissed the tip of each finger and the heel of her thumb before laying a final kiss in the center of her palm. Hermione purred softly and settled against his side again. 

Draco held her and tipped his head to rest against hers. "I love you," he said to her, his voice shaking. He kissed her temple and said it again. "I love you." His lips traveled down to brush her cheek. "I love you."

Hermione slowly rolled back on the dock, pulling Draco down with her. He nudged his good leg between her knees and smiled at her before leaning in close to nip at her bottom lip. "I love you," he said once more. "There's something else I want to ask you, but--"

She tangled her fingers in the soft hair at the base of his neck. "But there's no rush," she murmured. "Whenever you're ready, Draco. Whenever _we're_ ready. We know how to take our time."

He nuzzled into her throat, making her gasp. When he lifted his head, he gave her a soft, affectionate smile and slowly slid his hand up her side to brush his thumb across the bottom curve of her breast. "We certainly do."


End file.
